


When I look for god, all I find is you

by LordJixis



Series: Your Teeth: For Warm Things [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (it doesn't mention anything about him being trans in this one but it will soon), End of the World, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Enjolras, idk why i can't write these guys being like happy, or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordJixis/pseuds/LordJixis
Summary: This is the best thing that's ever happened, and the worst conversation he's ever had.





	When I look for god, all I find is you

Enjolras wakes up to the slow, methodical beeping that signifies he's in a hospital. None of his other tells are there: it doesn't smell like antiseptic, there isn't the constant thrum of breathing and humanity, life and death that makes hospitals so much more than buildings, and the barely-hushed whispers his friends always trade by his bedside are conspicuously absent.

But of all these, the beeping is ever-present and identifiable as 'hospital' and nothing else.

So he knows that's where he is before he forces his eyeballs open, before the inoffensive off-white of the walls floods his vision. It's the same as all the other hospitals he's been in: light blue sheets, a clear I.V. dripping some kind of something into his arm, a window and a table. It's also different: the only light is the soft green glow from the machine he's hooked up to, there's empty floor where his friends would normally be shifting as one mass, and the silence deserves another mention – it's deafening.

Between the beeps, he can hear – nothing.

He's woken up in hospitals enough that it's stopped scaring him, but this – this is different.

He fumbles for the call button. Nothing is lit up, but he presses it anyway. He's unsurprised yet disappointed when nothing happens for a solid five minutes afterwards. He knows how this goes, generally. If you wait long enough, the nurses will be by to help you.

But something is seriously, tremendously wrong, so he swings his legs over the edge of his bed and jerks the curtain back. The moonlight struggles against the darkness, but even as he's waiting for his eyes to adjust he can see that something's off. The shapes in the room aren't where they should be.

It's obvious in all the ways it's ridiculous, when he finally understands what he's seeing. There's a bed in front of the door.

He blinks at it.

The bed moves just slightly, which is how he learns there's someone on it.

It's actually comforting – he's used to having a roommate for his various stays in hospitals, and he'd begun entertaining wild thoughts about being the last person on the whole earth.

The fact they've seemed to move their bed in front of the door is... less so.

As quietly as he can, he grabs the I.V. and drags it around the bed. His legs feel unreasonably weak; he doesn't actually know how long he's been here, but signs are pointing to 'a long time'.

He has to lean heavily on the I.V. to make it the few steps to the other bed. Even with the support, he feels winded.

The sheets are rising and falling rhythmically. A knotted mess of dark hair peeks out the top, but their face is obscured.

He figures knowing who this mystery person is was probably more important than possibly inciting their annoyance for waking them, so he gently tugs the sheets off their face.

Grantaire blinks up at him with sleep-sweet eyes, and smiles one of the smiles he only ever sees when the man is drunk. It's full, and toothy, and just a little crooked. Enjolras has never been so relieved to see him.

The beeping continues. The silences in between feel endless.

“Enjolras.” He greets. “You're looking especially lovely tonight.” His voice is the rumble of tires on gravel. His eyes travel down to the I.V. and he heaves a sigh – one of the ones that makes Enjolras think he should've been a theater major. “You can't even be free of that in my dreams now?”

Enjolras blinks. Grantaire flops dramatically across the bed. Enjolras blinks again.

“You're not dreaming.” He says, before he can talk himself out of it. Before he can even considering crawling into the space Grantaire has oh-so-inconspicuously made by himself, before he can put an end to whatever this thing is that they've been dancing around for years. This is not the time. This is not the place.

Grantaire returns with a blink of his own. His whole posture changes, and suddenly he's the ramrod straight ex-military man that he's always been at protests. The comparison strikes something in him, something about the protest that landed him here, but the wisps of memory fade from him as soon as he tries to grab for them.

He stands and walks to the window. Enjolras has no idea if he finds what he's looking for, but he turns back around either way with a look on his face unlike any he's ever seen before.

“Grantaire?” He ventures.

“Enjolras.” He returns. It sounds like nothing so much as resignation. “You should probably sit down.”

* * *

 

His legs feel like noodles and Grantaire has been pacing without saying anything for at least two minutes. The beeping doesn't stop.

“Well.” He eventually says, “I've thought about this conversation a lot.” Which is never a good start to a conversation. “And honestly I still have no idea what to say.” Which is an even worse start.

Beep.

“How long have I been unconscious?” Enjolras prompts, because they might as well get the facts out of the way first.

“Almost three months.” He responds almost immediately. He's in soldier mode. His stiff stance and the faint green light make this entirely more ominous than it needs to be.

Beep.

“And something happened?” He presses, when it looks like that's where this conversation will end.

Grantaire's eyes widen, and he smiles without looking the least bit happy. “Something happened all right.” He chuckles. “The end of the fucking world happened.”

Beep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> @justanotherhumanbeing: who are you?? I'm glad you like my shit enough to break the laws of physics and give multiple kudos (how tho[jk I googled it but you're the reason I googled it ty]) anyway i'll like write you something if you want something specific written with these dudes? (Or any dudes/chicks/nbs)
> 
> @everyone else: hi! feel free to, say, leave me a comment or something. it makes my day
> 
> this is the base of this story and the first part I wrote, back when it was gonna be a multichaptered story instead of a series


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